


The Fine Print

by charab



Series: Stamp Of Approval [6]
Category: Naruto
Genre: Hokage Tower, Kiss on the shoulder, M/M, Negotiation room, kkir25
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-12-05
Updated: 2015-12-05
Packaged: 2018-05-05 04:20:57
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 671
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5361194
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/charab/pseuds/charab
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Iruka's shoulders were a cause to many thoughts for Kakashi.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Fine Print

**Author's Note:**

> Went a bit poetical with this one. Hope that you enjoy this.  
> Prompt: Kiss on the shoulder

Iruka's shoulders, to Kakashi, were a fine example on what he liked about in a well-proportioned man. They were, for one, carried with an air of authority belonging to a man who knew his place and was ruthless when defending it. Secondly, the sloping lines and curving angles of flesh beneath the regular shinobi uniform made it all the more interesting to see how the fabric pulled and bunched as the tokubetsu moved; as he bent over, stretched his back and rolled his neck to chase the kinks away; as he sat on the chair by the long table and his posture was riddled with fine print, giving the notice that he was not one to be taken lightly on matters that mattered to him. The sight of Iruka's shoulders, telling to him of strength that came from carrying responsibility over the fragile future of their village, with a physical reminder of the heavy burden scarred between the shoulder blades, sometimes made Kakashi wonder about the man behind the polite words and privately smiling eyes.  
  
However, when the clothes were absent and the sun-kissed skin was available for his wandering senses to see, smell, taste and touch, the beauty of a well-sculpted male body could truly be appreciated – and Kakashi, despite his gruesome past and questionable choices in literature, was a man who understood plenty of beauty.  
  
The way the sheen of sweat accentuated the shifting muscles beneath the scarred, tan skin which carried the mingling mixture of scents that made him heady with lust and undefined tenderness; the press and slide of smooth and hard flesh that rolled and heaved under his grasping hands as the body he held onto moved against him. It made him reach for the highest consensus, made him understand what a human, a man, ultimately was: an entity of feral instincts and noble principles, ulterior motives flirting with rightful causes; a constant, endless circle of cause and effect, of conflicting contradictions that longed for harmony they were always denied of.  
  
The beauty came from the paradox that had become flesh and bone.  
  
All that he thought, and yet his mind drew a blank when the other man moved between his open thighs, when the full-lipped mouth murmured nonsense and an occasional profanity into his ringing ears in between the dirty kisses, the meanings behind the words punctuated by the impeccably aimed thrusts of the narrow hips. The rising sensations made his lips search for the taste of salt and musk that grounded him into the present, and yet made it easier for him to forget himself into the feel of those shoulders flexing under his clutching fingers, not sharing one iota of thought to the probable reports of complaints they might receive from the improper use of the negotiation room.  
  
All that he reasoned, yet all he was interested in was to hear the other man urgently whisper his name when his teeth sank into the giving flesh of the tan shoulder while he held the other, tan back against pale chest, and couldn't any longer remember where he ended and the other began, sucking onto the skin like the other's body sucked in his cock as they lost the track of time and all sense of protocol, nothing else mattering to them at that exact moment than the carnal enactment of affection, the graduation schedules for genins and the chuunin exam budget overview be damned.  
  
All that he analyzed when he met the dark brown eyes that regarded him with sated fondness that had a glint of reprimand in it as the sweat and semen dried on their skins, and he gave into the urge to map with his mouth the shoulder that his head had leaned against, taking pleasure on the sigh that he heard the other release while he kissed his way, slowly, tenderly, all the way to the tan throat where he could feel a pulse against his lips – fluttering like the whispering wings of a butterfly. For him.  
  
For them.


End file.
